


A Bite to Eat

by Lady_of_Rohan



Category: Uncharted
Genre: Age Difference, Art, Dinner, Embarrassment, F/M, In Public, Making Out, Older Woman/Younger Man, Public Display of Affection, Public Humiliation, Restaurants, Tallowe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-09-11
Packaged: 2017-12-26 07:56:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/963480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_of_Rohan/pseuds/Lady_of_Rohan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During an evening spent together at Marlowe's favorite restaurant, Talbot learns how to whet Marlowe's appetite.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Bite to Eat

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first Tallowe fic in the romance genre that I had ever written, back in February of 2012. Damn! I could probably write this a lot better now but it is what it is! A little piece of Tallowe history :)

                                                                         

 

The restaurant was crowded, so it was with great care that Talbot escorted Marlowe to their table, arm in arm, as they followed the waiter's lead. Although they were in a secure environment, his instinct to protect her always seemed to override his ability to relax. It was better to be safe than sorry, after all... and he felt naked without his trusty 9mm concealed beneath his suit jacket. However, Marlowe had assured him he wouldn't require it.

They crossed the room, passing elegant couples dressed to the nines as light classical music played in the background. The soft, warm atmosphere was lit by chandeliers, which sparkled and glistened. The C _oeur d'Or_ was always popular among the higher classed citizens of London, and it happened to be Marlowe's favorite. They needn't have a reservation... for wealth often came with its benefits.

Standing beside a quaint corner table for two, Marlowe removed her plush fur jacket with Talbot's aid, revealing her form-fitting black dress. With a plunging cut into the back of it, it showed off the well-toned planes of her back and defined shoulder blades... certainly not the average shape of a woman of her age, and people seemed to take notice. As Talbot pulled out a chair for her, he caught the wandering eyes of several patrons glancing her way. His brow furrowed as she seated herself and he draped her jacket over the back of her chair before situating himself across from her.

They ordered some wine, and Marlowe gave a brief chuckle as the waiter left, her lips curving into a smirk.

"You seem tense, Talbot."

He immediately slumped his shoulders a bit, trying to appear less rigid. She had an uncanny ability to see right through him just as easily as the empty wine glasses sitting upon the table.

"Do I?" he asked, returning a forced smile.

"Mhmm. Since we walked through the door."

"Well, I suppose I'm just restless. It's a long while to remain stationary."

The pair had spent their evening at the theater. Marlowe loved the opera, and while Talbot found the experience a bit difficult to concentrate at times, he was always pleased to see her enjoying herself.

In truth, public places made him uneasy. It wasn't often that they mingled in a mundane setting outside of the confines of their work and Marlowe's estate. Talbot felt anxious and on edge. In public places there were people.. and people weren't to be trusted... _especially_ when they kept throwing lecherous glances towards Marlowe. Talbot couldn't help but glare in the direction of a group of older gentlemen across the room.

"Ah, don't mind them," Marlowe said, with a wave of the hand. "If they want to gawk like animals, then let them be. Though, you seem to have attracted a fair amount of attention yourself."

At that, Talbot raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Marlowe nodded her head towards another table, where an attractive young woman was situated. Wearing a low-cut, dazzling dress, she was engaged in conversation with what appeared to be her beau, but he seemed much more interested in her cleavage as she tried to conceal the fact that she had been ogling Talbot. When she caught Talbot looking her way, she returned her attention to her dinner, and her date, but still managed to throw him a glance out of the corner of her eye.

"It appears that the young woman can't tear her eyes from you," said Marlowe.

Talbot merely shook his head, shifting uncomfortably. "Surely you're mistaken."

"Of _course_. I'm sure that's _exactly_ why she was staring at your perfect little arse while we were being seated."

Marlowe remained straight-faced, picking up the menu and perusing it as Talbot stared. He truly wished she wouldn't refer to his bum in such a manner... but such was Marlowe's way. He coughed in attempt to clear the air a bit, and luckily the waiter arrived with a bottle of red wine. He poured the glasses and gave them a bit more time to decide upon their order.

A minute or two of silence passed before Talbot struck up conversation again, as he picked up the menu of French delicacies and began halfheartedly looking it over. The background was filled with casual chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the relaxing music which had now switched to a violin solo.

"Was the opera to your liking?" he asked, but not before clearing his throat.

Marlowe looked up to daintily take a sip of her drink, then continued to read the menu. "Of course. You know I love the opera."

Indeed, he did.

"What did you think of it, Talbot?"

"I rather enjoyed it," he said, perhaps a bit too quickly. With his face half-concealed by the menu, he hoped that his insincere answer would remain subtle. Unfortunately for him, it wasn't.

"You've always been a terrible liar," Marlowe said, with a soft chuckle. "You found it to be quite dull... I can tell. There's no shame in admitting that, as much as it bruises your ego. Just as long as you're not ashamed of _me_."

Talbot couldn't tell if she was jesting or being sincere, but regardless, the comment caught him off guard.

"Marlowe, I'm not, I-"

His lips parted to speak, but was cut off as the waiter arrived.

"May I take your orders, monsieur and mademoiselle?"

"The smoked salmon for me, please," Marlowe said politely, with a sidelong glance at Talbot.

"I'll have the... uh...duck confit, thank you."

With a polite nod, the waiter took their menus and left them alone again.

"Hungry?" she asked, with an eyebrow raised. Marlowe was staring into her wine glass as the deep red liquid swirled around. "You usually order something lighter."

"I suppose," Talbot shrugged.

"Personally, I'm _famished_. I'm not certain I can wait for dinner to arrive."

The comment struck him as a bit odd, but he shrugged it off as something bumped against his ankles. Apparently, she had kicked him beneath the table on accident. As he took another sip of his wine, he nearly choked when he felt the distinctiveness of her foot trailing along the side of his leg. He glanced around anxiously, attempting not to make a scene. What was she hoping to achieve?

Brow furrowed and lips pursed, his eyes met Marlowe's, who looked completely serene sitting in her chair... save for the left side of her lips tugging into the faintest of smirks. God, she knew how to get to him... and likewise, confuse the bloody hell out of him.

As she continued to tease him beneath the table, Talbot was starting to sweat, tugging lightly at his shirt collar and attempting to keep a neutral expression. His composure was slipping as she rubbed her foot upwards, brushing along his inner thigh. He tapped his fingers against the table in hopes that she would stop. His pokerface didn't last long when she pressed between his legs on quite the _sensitive_ area...

At that, Talbot unintentionally knocked his elbow into his wine glass as it toppled, thoroughly spilling its bright red contents into his lap.

_"Shit!"_

He bolted to his feet as several people stopped to stare at the scene.

"Oh, Talbot..." Marlowe said, with a disapproving _tsk_ as she regarded his ruined attire. "I just can't take you anywhere. Really, how did you get so sloppy?"

She stood from her seat, grabbing her cloth napkin as she stepped towards him and began shamelessly dabbing at his lower half. Talbot's body was completely rigid as the attention of at least half of the restaurant was garnered. The young woman who had taken interest in Talbot was looking quite perplexed, as well as a bit envious, as she glared at Marlowe from across the room.

"Marlowe, I'll take care of it." Talbot nodded curtly, jaw clenched. "Really...thank you."

He traipsed off towards the men's room, keeping his gaze forward so as not to make eye contact with anyone. His cheeks were burning hot from humiliation, and he was folding his arms in front of him in an attempt to hide the obvious spill.

Once he was in the restroom, which was thankfully vacant, Talbot removed his jacket and grabbed a wad of paper towels. Muttering under his breath, he cleaned his trousers the best he could but found that it was still uncomfortable and regrettably, quite damp. That was _definitely_ going to leave a stain. Another perfectly good suit ruined. It could always be worse, he supposed... at least it wasn't blood this time...

Talbot was remarkably surprised to exit the men's room and see Marlowe waiting for him in the hallway, leaning on one hip. His features registered surprise as she raised a single eyebrow at him, and he stopped dead in his tracks as if he were expecting her to pounce. Not a moment later, and he realized he was correct, as Marlowe tugged him by the elbow, pulling him through the door to the ladies room. He didn't even have time to protest.

A middle-aged woman was in the process of washing her hands when she spun to see the couple make their unexpected entrance. She looked quite aghast at the sight, but Marlowe merely squinted her eyes into a scowl, and the woman scurried out of the restroom... leaving the two of them some privacy.

Without further ado, Marlowe grabbed Talbot by his waistcoat and pushed him against the cool bathroom wall, pressing her body flush to his own. Her lips were upon his immediately as she thoroughly smeared her bright red lipstick all over his mouth.

"Marlowe, what are you doing?!" he muttered through their lip lock.

"You really don't know how to shut up, do you? Allow me to help you with that."

With her tongue sliding along his bottom lip, she implored entry in a most tantalizing fashion. Talbot sighed and allowed her to ravish his mouth for a few moments before he pushed her away lightly, holding her at arms length.

"This... isn't right," he said with a frown. He couldn't tell if he was flustered or entirely aroused. It certainly seemed to be a mesh of both.

"Oh, don't be a prude," she chided. "I thought you weren't ashamed of me."

"I swear to you, I'm not."

"Then prove otherwise."

Suddenly, realization dawned as she regarded him haughtily. Did Marlowe really need him to prove himself by snogging with her in a public restroom? Sometimes he wondered if she'd ever stop testing him...

"Marlowe," Talbot sighed. "Our dinner is going to get cold."

She wasn't buying his excuse as she leaned in to nibble on his ear.

"What I want isn't on the menu," she purred into his neck, and her hot breath sent shivers down his spine.

If Talbot were a man with stronger resolve, he would have resisted... but the look in her eyes and the smell of her perfume and that _goddamned_ dress was far too much. Marlowe had a habit of getting her way, and this situation was no different. It was no use trying to reason with someone who couldn't be reasoned with.

As her lips pressed themselves to his own once again, warm and moist, Talbot allowed his hands to run along her bare arms, gently rubbing up and down and feeling goosebumps raise at his touch. Marlowe was alternating between gentle pecks and hard, passionate kisses... and Talbot's heart was pounding faster in his chest at every nip, every sigh, every sensation of her hands exploring his body through his pinstriped suit...

His palms trailed from her arms and downwards along the exposed skin of her back and finally came to rest upon her hips. With one hand splayed across his chest, Marlowe's free hand was toying with the hair at the nape of his neck and urging him closer to her. She was kissing him so hard that his lips were going numb... and he didn't mind one bit.

Talbot fed her a groan through their lip lock and in response to his hands upon her, she raised a knee up and around his hips, hooking her leg behind his knee. No doubt, she could feel how excited he was. He dared to allow his palms to cup her backside, pulling her closer as she gave a little laugh.

The warmth's of Marlowe's body pressed against his was exhilarating, and Talbot's sense of euphoria was only heightened by the fact that they were displaying their intimacy in quite the public place. It was ridiculously difficult to resist picking her up and propping her against the sink so they could proceed a bit further... but Talbot knew that their tryst would soon be cut short by someone in need of using the facilities.

As if on cue, the bathroom door creaked open. With one last lingering kiss, Marlowe pulled herself away from him and patted his chest.

"We should really get you home so you can be rid of those trousers," she said, a hint of suggestiveness to her tone. "I'm going to cancel our order. Meet me in the Jaguar... and _don't_ keep me waiting."

Just like that, it was over, and Marlowe sauntered off and left him to his fate in the ladies restroom. Lightheaded and weak in the knees, Talbot felt very much like he'd been hit by a tornado.

He didn't quite have the nerve to move before the newcomer entered, and he was surprised to see that it was his young admirer who hadn't been able to tear her eyes from him earlier.

She seemed relatively unfazed as she paused to look him up and down and ultimately failed at concealing her amusement.

"Quite the tigress you've got there," she said with a chuckle, and began fixing up her makeup in the mirror.

Before walking out of the bathroom, Talbot took a moment to regard his reflection. His hair was disheveled, his shirt was untucked, there were wine stains on his lap and lipstick smeared everywhere. He truly did look as if a tornado had made him its victim. Still, he couldn't help but grin at the woman in response to her comment, running his fingers through his mussed up hair.

"You have _no bloody idea_."


End file.
